


Unlikely Cocktails, OR: Heart on the Rocks

by friendlytroll



Series: A Drink With Zenigata [3]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Bonding, Drinking, Enemy Friends, F/M, Flirting, Gen, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Smoking, early blue jacket era, maybe a little romance, somewhat melancholy conversation, two people in love with the same idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 13:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15797265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlytroll/pseuds/friendlytroll
Summary: Zenigata is on his way to nurse his sorrows alone after a day of bad news, but runs into an unfamiliar face. But no good deed deserves to go unrewarded, leading to a far less lonely, but arguably much more exhausting night.What do Zenigata and Fujiko Mine have to discuss over a drink? Zenigata's haircut? Why he was trying to head back to his hotel with a bottle of vodka? Actual feelings? Maybe Lupin should be worried about a friendship like that developing.





	Unlikely Cocktails, OR: Heart on the Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I keep waiting for the show to have these two team up for more then a minute. I think they'd be fun as buddies. But it's probably not gonna happen, so... my city now.  
> Another in the so far barely unofficial 'zenigata has a drink with someone' line.

A police officer shouldn’t have many vices. A man of vice was someone who could be tempted, one day, to turn aside from the right thing. If you were going to be the hand of the law, you needed to trust yourself. Healthy mind, healthy body, healthy law. But… it wasn’t like you needed to deprive yourself. A drink, a smoke… a romantic notion. They were all fine in moderation, to Zenigata.

This was not moderation. 

This is Inspector Zenigata quietly, determinedly set out to just. Be. Drunk. 

Unfortunately that took some doing. At his size and muscle density the only thing that works is vodka; neat and practically joyless. The bottle weighs heavy in the pocket he’d shoved it in as he walks, the cold night air feeling as if it’s soaking through his clothing down to the bone. It’s the time of night when clubs were emptying- he can’t decide if it suits or ruined the mood to weave his way through far younger people and puddles of neon lights on the sidewalk. He supposes it hardly matters.  
“Um, excuse me…” 

Zenigata stops short, blinking slightly. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts- or dire attempts not to think- he hadn’t noticed the woman step in front of him. She must have peeled off from the crowds, he supposed. But without thinking twice, he stands up straight; whatever else had happened, he was still a man of duty. 

“Yes, Miss?” he asks, regarding her. 

The woman smiles up at him, rubbing her arm shyly. Short, purplish black hair cut short to about the ears, bangs long over her brows, curly. Pink lipstick. Wearing a flower print in dark reds and greens over white; the top cut high to her neck with the bottom high enough to bare her midriff, and matching patterned shorts. Heels. He takes in the details in a moments glance, on muscle memory. 

“Sorry, its just um… there was a guy in the club who won’t leave me alone… a-and my apartments not that far…” she has her shoulders tensed, and Zenigata quickly glances up… gaze falling quickly on a piece of work in a white suit and ugly diamond rings shoving his way through the crowd in their direction.  
Immediately, zenigata gives the brightest smile he can muster, and throws his arm around the woman's shoulder- making sure the motion is a light touch, but visible. 

“Sorry I’m late to pick you up! Let’s get going, before big sis gets mad at me, huh?” he laughs, matching the boisterous carry of his voice- relieved as the woman seems to get what he’s doing, giggling and bouncing a fist lightly off his shoulder

“Geeze uncle! About time!” she chirps, while quickly indicating a direction down the street with her eyes. He nods slightly, and she grabs his arm as if to lean on it before they walk away. 

For a little while it’s a silent walk; whoever the man at the bar was, he’d clearly lost some steam. Zenigata made a note of his face; the kind of guy who bothered women had always gotten on his nerves. Later, he could try and pull some files to see if the creep had something he could nail, just next time he had a spare minute at… work. 

Right. _Damn_. 

“…Thanks, sir.” the woman's voice interrupts his thoughts, and he shakes his head slightly, tugging the brim of his hat down slightly with his spare hand. 

“Think nothing of it. Someone who won’t stop to help when there’s a need… I would hardly call that a man at all.” he says firmly, nodding his head a little. 

“Wooaahh~ That was like something out of a noir movie, gramps!” she giggles, taking her arm from his to applaud. He snorts a little, scratching the back of his head… the _gramps_ is a little bit of a sting. But it was still nice to hear. 

“Habit. Really though, let me know if he’s been bothering you a while. I can make sure he thinks twice.” The bright side, he supposes, to not being able to pull files was nobody could stop him from leaving a two bit daddies-money punk to nurse a lesson or two in an alleyway. 

She sighs and swings a little clutch purse he hadn’t noticed before, the two still walking further from the clubs and into an upscale residential area. 

“No… just bought me a drink, and I thought maybe he’d be fun… buuut it was pretty clear he wanted to sample the arm candy.” she gestures in front of her own chest, which made zenigata cough into his hand, slightly reddening. 

“I see… I’m sorry to hear that. Wanting to have a nice time shouldn’t invite that kind of behavior.” he says solemnly. She smiles up at him, holding onto his arm again. 

“.,.that’s pretty cool too, Gramps. Even most decent guys might have lectured me about taking drinks from a stranger.”

“Hah! No. I might be older, but I still remember being your age. And drinks at clubs are an expensive pain in the ass.” he gives her a slightly exaggerated wink, rewarded with another peal of giggles.

“They aaaaare! And half the time they’re not even that good. …wait, so were YOU taking free drinks, Gramps~?”

“Sometimes.” he smirks, chuckling at her clear shock. 

“When I went to the right bars, anyways.” he adds. Not as nice of bars as the ones around where he’d bumped into her, certainly… at least not in his day. Maybe it was different now.  
“Oohh! Guess I really did pick a safe guy, huh~?” she squeezes his arm a little, bumping her head against his arm. 

“You did. Not that men can’t be rotten no matter who their target is.”

“Jeeze, ain’t it the truth. Oh hey! This is me up here~” the apartments around them were, if he had to wager, dizzyingly expensive. She lets go and flounces up the stairs, moving pretty gracefully in her heels. 

“Hey, want to come in a minute? I wanna thank you for helping me out.” she offers, fishing a pair of keys out of her clutch. He smiles, and tries to keep it from looking as melancholy as it feels. 

“Ah, thank you but…” he trails off in the middle of his excuse, feeling something amiss. He pats himself down, hand falling on a pocket that was, all at once, empty. 

“Aww, you should come in anyways.” she pouts and then, suddenly, tilts her head and grins. 

“It’s not like you can get far with whatever YOU were planning without this~” her hand suddenly plunges into the front of her shirt and, with a flourish like a magician revealing a trick, pulls the missing bottle of vodka out. Her posture also subtly changed- shoulders back, energy up, and a smile as sweetly devious as it was familiar.

“Riiiight, Pops~?”

Zenigata slaps his hand over his face, making a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. 

“ _Mine_ …”

“Ding ding ding! Your prize is a drink! Iiif you come in.” she looks at the bottle, pulls a face, and shakes her head. 

“Ugh, but NOT from this. This is not alcohol. This is emergency jet fuel.” she adds. 

“Miss Mine, if this is some scheme…” he rubs his temples, vaguely considering his odds of getting the bottle back. No. Not even if she actually was drunk. 

“Hey! I really did need a walk back home. Sometimes a lady doesn’t want to have to end a night wrecking her nails on some jerk.” she protests, hands on her hips. then she holds up her keys at him, with a wink. 

“I just got lucky, and caught sight of the most noble guy I know~” she says, turning to unlock the door. Zenigata softens at her words, despite his own best internal arguments. 

“…Miss Mine. This isn’t necessary”

“Keep that ‘Miss’ up and I can switch to ‘Koichi’.” he winces faintly, and when he looks up the door is open, with Fujiko standing against the light. 

“Cmon. No tricks, no Lupin. After all these years working together, you owe me a drink off the clock.”

“Working _together,_ Mine?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Close enough~”

He sighs… and after a moment of grumbling to himself, starts to follow her up the stairs. 

 

Even after all these years Zenigata wasn’t sure what Lupin _did_ with his money, besides pour it back into his ridiculous gadgets and schemes. Fujiko Mine, on the other hand, tended to invest. He was fairly sure she owned most of a bank alongside with whatever other properties she’d picked up over the years. Her tracks vanished pretty fast, and since she wasn’t his main assignment, he had no desire to kick that wasps nest. 

Whatever it was she did, Mine has no problem keeping herself comfortable. Her decor isn’t a surprise in that regard, even if he suspected a lot of it had come with the place. It was beautiful, but also somewhere it wouldn’t be hard to leave. The most personality was seen more in the clothing stacked over the back of an antique silk love seat, half empty lipstick printed cups of water, and what appeared to be an assault rifle he was pretty sure you couldn’t buy legally _anywhere_. With, yes, a second glance confirms, a bra thrown over it. 

After he’d had his brief glance inside, he takes off his trench coat to hang up, setting it firmly on the hook and, after a moments thought, also strips off his suit jacket. Immediately he’s startled by a finger poking his back. 

“You know, you look pretty good in a shoulder holster~ Feel free to keep THAT on.” she says teasingly, before she walks further inside and vanishes. He snorts but… it suits him fine to do as she suggests. Being down to his hat, vest, tie, and shirt was already uncomfortably exposed. 

He walks a way inside, and doesn’t have time to wonder where to sit, or if this was another in a grand lifetime of idiotic trusting blunders, before Fujiko re-appears. 

Despite the short time she’d been gone, the outfit she’d been in was completely replaced. Slippers, leggings, and what looked like a massively oversized t-shirt. Her more familiar auburn curls drifted around her shoulders, making him contemplate not for the first time just how exactly her wigs were supposed to work. It was, altogether… casual. 

Huh. Maybe she really did just mean it about having a drink. Or he can allow himself to hope he isn’t being foolish in trusting her, anyways.

“Oh-kay~ Cmon, follow me, I said we’d get a drink, right?” she chirps, leading him further in a bit and pushing him vaguely towards a sitting area. He assumed that was it anyhow; armchair, loveseat, cigar box, one of those ridiculous gas powered false fireplaces. He lowers himself into the chair she indicated, feeling a joint or two creak. 

“Cigars? Something for dates?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her. Fujiko was hunting in a liquor cabinet with some determination. 

“Pffff. They WISH they were good enough dates for cubans, Pops~”

He couldn’t help a short bark of laughter, covering his mouth with his hand as he tried to cover it by clearing his throat.

Fujiko triumphantly selects a bottle, and then ambles out of sight to where he presumes a fridge is, judging from the noise

“Don’t think you’re getting out of here without telling me about your free drinks days, Pops~” she calls back, making him rub his temple. Ah yes. The fun, familiar feeling of remembering what info he’d accidentally given away to a thief in disguise. 

“You’re a scotch man, right?”She sits down- or rather flops directly backwards into the loveseat, taking a deep swig of her beer. Not a single drop spilled on her way down

“From time to time. Beer…?” he raises an eyebrow, lifting his glass and, without a word, rolling his fingertip over the inside rim of the glass. No particulates… 

“I like a cold drink after being in a stuffy club. And knock that off, I’d be better off hitting you with a chair then trying to drug you, anyways.” She puff her cheeks out in a pout and he snorts, taking a slow sip. True enough, probably. That kind of thing was why he had so much trouble getting drunk in the first place. 

“…I’m curious though~ If you were picturing me at home, allll alone in my negligee-“  
“Which I do not.” he cuts in flatly.

“Yeah well you never did have a taste for fine art. Aaanyways, I wanna know what you _think_ I would be drinking.” she sits up a little, leaning forward with a smirk like a challenge.

Zenigata knew if Fujiko Mine was trying to get something out of him, then he didn’t have a chance. No better then if he’d tried to fight Goemon hand to hand, or outshoot Jigen. Sure, maybe once in a hundred times he’d completely have the drop… but only a fool would try to count on something like that. No, the only tactics he had come to rely on were dodging around them, or charging forward with your shoulders squared. Koichi Zenigata isn’t the kind of man who turns tail and runs over a trivial little matter like knowing he was going to lose. 

He stares at the glass in her hands, then back to her, carefully slotting together pieces of information into a possible outline. Like putting together the very corners of a puzzle first. 

“A Pink Lady.” he answers.

“…No way you know what that is. You just think it sounds right.” she counters, tossing her hair back with another pout. His answer is to set his glass down firmly, and shoot her a triumphant look. 

“Dry gin, applejack, lemon, grenadine, optional egg white, cherry garnish. About twice as much gin as applejack, light lemon, shake a lot longer to make sure the egg whites a froth.” he can’t help a low snicker at her visible shock, but holds up a hand, cutting her off. It was a bad habit, but the few times he ever got something over on this lot, he found a deep joy in explaining just _how_ he’d done it.

“And the WHY is because it looks pink, and light, but is pound for pound as strong as a martini. Men buy women drinks half made of syrup, I would have assumed given the chance you might avoid those for varieties sake.” he tilts his head forward and to the side a little to fix her with a look, lowering his hand.  
“…pfff. Okay~ You got me, pops. I like those. And leaving the egg white off is for big babies.” she says with a smile and a wink. He nods in approval at this, a silly burst of triumph over his deduction blooming as he grabs his drink again. 

“But~ I don’t make myself cocktails. Its a pain. Boys can do that for me.” She corrects, wagging a finger at him. 

“Mm… I could point out I had no reason to be picturing you alone.” she laughs at that. And for a few minutes, there was a soft lull. He found himself relaxing somewhat between the drink’s warmth and what he supposed was, technically, extremely familiar company. 

“…ynno. You caught me real off guard there a sec pops~ Who’da thought you would guess the first drink Lupin ever made me.” she has her chin resting in one hand, looking at him with an expression that seemed amused around the lips and sharp around the eyes. He couldn’t tell what she was prodding him for with that. 

“We’re both well educated in alcohol.” he shrugged, and the slight tilt of her head to one side confirmed he had just lost a step in a fencing match he hadn’t noticed was starting. 

“Him, that makes sense. You…?”she’s mostly finished her beer by now, and sets the glass aside. 

“If a man’s going to drink, he should know what he’s talking about.”

“Soooo what do you call a bottle of cheap vodka, then, mister ‘classy only when it’s REALLY noir to be’.” she says, smiling as cheerfully as a gold gravestone.

“That’s getting _drunk_.” he informs her, choosing not to rise to the ‘Noir’ dig.

“And scotch isn’t? Trust me pops, It’s worth it to me to know exactly how fast liquor can drop a man.” she points out, standing up and walking over to peer into her liquor cabinet again with the cheerful air of a woman surveying an armory. 

“Speaking of… bet you haven’t had a decent umeshu in forever~”

“Mm. Not since last time I made my own. I wouldn’t say no to a glass.”

“Okay put a pin in THAT statement. So scotch versus vodka…?”

“Scotch is for enjoying a peaceful moment. Vodka is for not wanting to stand up straight anymore. “ he growls. Fujiko tilts her head to one side, making the expression of someone sorting through some unpleasant memories, before nodding. He had to assume she’d had her own nights like that. 

“Can’t argue with that. So. Fired, off the case, or he’s ‘dead’ again?”  
“That’ll cost you another drink.”

“I’ll let you mix us both one~”  
“ _That_ would cost you a cigar.”

It almost feels triumphant again just to watch her scowl at him. 

“…You mix the drinks, one cigar, I find out what the hell has you wandering around like six feet of sad for yourself, AND I get to know one thing Lupin doesn’t.” she crosses her arms firmly, fixing him with a flinty glare. 

“…Make sure it’s not the cheap cigars with an expensive band on it, and you have a deal.” He holds out his hand to her with a firm nod. She sighs.  
“There’s nothing worse then a man who actually knows me.” she gives a final pout before shaking his hand with a firmness Zenigata was sure might have rotated a joint out of place. 

 

It takes Zenigata a few minutes to asses what he has to work with, rolling up his sleeves to the elbows in the small kitchen. He could tell at a glance a lot of it was unused, but the alcohol was top shelf. Fujiko had moved with him, sitting on a stool in the corner and seeming cheerful about the degree to which she was getting in his way. Gin, vermouth, chartreuse, orange bitters… he’s honestly glad for something to do with his hands, filling the mixing glass with ice from the freezer.

“I’m currently suspended from Lupin’s case.” he starts to explain, chest tight, beginning to measure each ingredient in turn. 1:1 for everything but a dash of the bitters…

“They’d fire me if they could, but for now it’s a complete hold on the case.” his hands move as he assembles the drink, carefully measuring things out. 

“…Is that all?” Fujiko is unimpressed, and doubly so at him rounding on her in annoyance. 

“It’s happened before, Pops. What happened to mister ‘I’ll pursue him as a civilian’?” she stretches a leg out, shoving him gently with her foot till he turns back to mixing their drinks. 

“Hah! True. Lupin will _never_ be rid of me. But…” he growls, fuming as he stirred.Interpol or no Interpol, he knew there was no force on earth that could keep him from his destiny. And he had known for years that Lupin, and his pursuit of the man, would be his lifes work if need be.

He finishing stirring grabbing two glasses to strain the drink out into.

“I still need resources to be able _to_ catch him.” Even his own determination couldn’t change facts; he couldn’t follow on his heels without at least his travels funded anymore then he could swim through air.

“…and. More often then not, if someone’s trying to get rid of me, it means someone has a fancy _idea_ they want to try without me interfering.” he waves a hand grimly as he fills the second glass, gesturing at a long career of experience.

“So, ridiculous inevitable failure, orrrr somebody trying to murder him.” Fujiko supplies, hopping to her feet as he finishes carefully pouring. 

“Mmm.” he nods faintly, picking up his own glass and walking back to his seat. She follows, already taking a cheerful sip. He settles and stares at his drink moodily for a moment until motion makes him blink and look up to Fujiko waving a cigar at him. 

“Alright, I get it pops.You were going to get dumb drunk because you can’t go flirt with Lupin and he might be in trouble.”

“That is _not_ what I-“

“Buuuut you still don’t get a cigar without finishing off the deal. Dish. Secret now. And it HAS to be something Lupin doesn’t know. Also the name of the cocktail, I like it.” 

“A Bijou.” he takes a sip himself, thinking a second. He could have used pretty much any personal detail. At least, he can’t help but feel there’s no reason Lupin really has to have been looking into what he did outside of their rivalry. But… ah, no. He has something.

“Awww~! You _do_ know me, pops.” she giggles at the name of the drink, tossing the cigar she held up in the air before catching it, presumably to try and goad him. He waits, quietly, until she’s taking a sip of her drink…

“I dye my hair.” Someone with better self control could probably have kept from snickering as Fujiko choked on the alcohol. Sure, he wasn’t going to win the fight. But there was something to be said for getting in one solid shot on the way down.

“Bullshit!” she recovers pretty fast, pointing accusatorially at him.

“Ever since three years into chasing the moron.” he sighs faintly, gesturing at his right temple. 

“Stress, only gotten worse since. It’s something I _know_ Lupin doesn’t know, he’d never be able to resist poking fun at something like that- _what are you doing._ ” Fujiko had sprung up, and before he can react, snatches his hat off, staring down at him intently. 

“Oh my god you _totally do._ …and you really need to touch up your roots.” She sips her drink, dodging his hand trying to shoo her away with ease, burying her hand in her hair to push a line of hair to one side. 

“Get off me.” 

“Oh hush. Wow, solid stripe, huh? …you thought about just letting it grow out~? It could be a pretty good look on you, pops.” he manages to finally swat her hand away with his hat, which he shoves back on his head firmly, scowling. 

“A _wide_ stripe. I swear it gets a new centimeter on it with every stupid faked death. And I can’t, I- oh for god’s sake, Mine.” he lets out a long sigh that’s half a snarl, as Fujiko drapes herself over the back of his chair, one elbow resting on his shoulder. Reddening, he tries to move his head forward from under her with little success. 

“How come~?” She makes zero effort to move, leaving Zenigata quietly wondering if there was even any way he could shove her away from him that wouldn’t leave his hand somewhere… unsporting. And her hair draping over him didn’t help much.

“Because people already thought I was a lot older then I was when I _started_. Going grey would make an easy excuse to start trying to shove me off the case for good.” he admits- trying to reach up and grab her shoulder- but halting it as her arm cheerfully wrapped around the front of his neck. About an inch away, he reckoned, from pretty much a headlock. He choses, quietly, to lower his hand.

This was the problem with Lupin’s gang. He’d known them all a long time now. And there was… always things he found he could enjoy about their company. But he could never, ever forget that they were also some of the most dangerous people on the planet. 

He wishes, sometimes, that knowing that helped him to like them any less. 

“But… you still get suspended and fired anyhow, right~?” she asks, and its a question he senses is almost as dangerous as the arm around him. He just can’t see where the knife is hidden. 

“…yes, Mine. Obviously yes.” he growls, narrowing his eyes at her soft giggle. 

“Why not give up?” Zenigata stiffens. It would have been kinder for her to close the arm around his windpipe. 

“ _Never._ ” is his only answer, heated and flat as metal turned on an anvil. 

“Hey, hey~ I didn’t say on _Lupin_.” her hand shifts, reaching up to ‘gently’ pat his cheek.

“Trust me, Zenigata. I know how hard it is to give up on him.” He can’t see her face just then. But the tone has something under the casual air she likes to use. Maybe it’s just the romantic in him that thinks it’s melancholy. But.. the slight tint of annoyance, that he’s certain of, just because it’s so familiar. 

He doesn’t have an answer for her. Or… he does. But it’s stuck in him- a lot of things he could say seem to wind up like that. How many things he could have said once were left scattered in his memory? It was hard not to feel a little envy about that. Fujiko Mine, he was dead sure, never had a problem saying anything she wanted to. If something was unsaid, it was because she had chosen not to, like a warrior staying her hand from drawing a blade. 

Zenigata knew he was the one building a cowards graveyard inside his memories. 

“I’ve _tried_.” was all he could manage. He still can’t see her face, but he’s taken off guard by her shifting back a little- her cheek resting against his hair. She doesn’t say anything, but she also doesn’t move, other then to wordlessly wipe the back of her hand under both of his eyes. He was probably far more surprised then she was to see the wet shine the motion left behind on her hand. 

“Being a cops gonna break your heart one of these days, Pops.” Zenigata laughs, hoarsely, tilting his head down even though she probably can’t see his face either. 

“Too late for that. How many times does something have to break before it’s not worth anything, anymore? …you’d know best.” It was a maudlin statement at best. Self pitying at worst. But he had no more pretenses of trying to keep defenses up, now. 

“Ah, ah~ That’s a common mistake… what makes something worth a lot isn’t always how well kept it is.” she pats his chest. 

“What matters is if it’s worth something to someone who _wants_ it enough.”

He’s sure he’s redder now then when she first leaned over him, a faint flame lighting in his chest. He might have been at risk of having to say something genuinely vulnerable if the hand resting against him hadn’t, with no warning, given his chest a firm _squeeze_. 

“OFF.” he smacks her hand away- the motion making Fujiko giggle and hop away, finally leaving her position draped over him… but to his horror, before he can stand, she’d flopped directly over his lap- back on one arm rest and legs propped over the other. Not to mention at SOME point she’d put his god damn _hat_ on, leaving him nearly paralyzed with anger. 

Fujiko sips her drink, puts it down, cheerfully produces two cigars- already clipped somehow- and sticks one in his mouth before he can say anything. 

“Quit your stupid job! Work for _me_ instead.” She produces what appears, in fact, to be HIS lighter, and lights his cigar with it. He stares at her, the offer so out of nowhere to him that he could barely process it. 

“…what?”

“You heard me. Work for me. Same job, pretty much. Chase lupin. And _I_ can pay you.” She bites on her own cigar, lighting it and taking a satisfied looking puff. 

“You’re not serious.” he shakes his head, letting the smoke fill his mouth and drift away. 

“Oh I am. I don’t talk about putting money on the table unless I’m serious as sin.” she looks up at him levelly, holding the cigar away a moment to tap some speck of ash off it. 

Zenigata looks away, drains the end of his drink in one go, and sets aside the empty glass. 

“I don’t think I’m your style.” he says gruffly. 

“I dunno about that, you might have a bigger cup size then me~” she raises her eyebrows at him, laughing again when he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“ _I am perfectly capable of throwing you off of me, Mine._ ”

“Yeaaahhh but you won’t. You WOULD if something was actually on the line though. I like that too~” She shifts down until just her head is against the arm rest, using one hand to wipe her hair out from under herself. 

“…and anyways. Even if you weren’t my style… you’re Lupin’s.” She smiles- a small smile. It would have been foolish to try and read much into her expression, especially where Lupin was concerned. But he’d have had to call it bittersweet, at best.

Zenigata plucks his hat off of her, and pulls it firmly back on until it’s shadowing his eyes. 

“He doesn’t need me.” he can’t tell if it feels worse to say it then it would have not to. What does hurt, on the other hand, is the sudden sharp _yank_ on his tie as Fujiko grabs onto it, and uses the leverage to haul herself up closer to him. 

“If something happened to you, I’m not even sure how long he would still _be_ the Lupin the Third I love.” Her tone was, terrifyingly, not that different then she might have said anything. It’s the look in her eyes that sets off the air raid sirens. She lets go, however, and settles back down against him with all apparent comfort. 

“I barely have reason to assume he even thinks of me when I’m not there.” he settles back in the chair, blowing smoke in a shaky exhale. 

“As if. You should hear him. ‘Oh i bet Pops is probably already waiting, Pops is such a hard working guy, do you think Pops noticed how clever I am’.” the imitation of Lupin’s voice is uncanny enough to startle him, giving her an uneasy glance. She caught the look and, pinching her cheek, sticks her tongue out at him.  
“Don’t give me that look, I’ve seen Lupin pass as you before.” he grumbles, puffing his cigar.

“Yeah well he probably woulda got his hand down your shirt instead of just over-the-top action~” 

He chokes, accidentally inhaling the cigar smoke in a way that forces him to cough into his hand. She reaches up to pat his face again, with a grin like an audible snicker. 

“So come work for me. Or go work for him, even if he’d be even more of a monster to handle with you on his side.” he tenses slightly, and her hand lingers on his face. 

“All you’d have to do it ask, Pops.”

It’s a statement that hurts in only the way hope pushing up on age old scars can. The kind of thing that hurt more because he knew it was true, because once he _had_ asked, and Lupin had barely hesitated, barely seemed to give it more then a passing thought. Even when it had just been for Zenigata’s own sense of stupid, foolish pride.

“I’m pretty sure I already spent that coin, Fujiko.” he smiles, with almost no joy to it.  
“Oh please. He’s flinched as much as you have. And _you_ haven’t even tried to murder him before.” she pokes him in the stomach, and he honestly barely has the energy to swat her off. 

“Not entirely accurate.” he mutters- there’d been a few times. Back before he’d learned that if it looked like Lupin had actually murdered someone in cold blood, it’s faster to just triple check for squibs or a second gunman ahead of time and skip the rigamarole.

“Those didn’t count. You were being all Noble. He looooves that.” she mimics swooning, which he does a very poor job of ignoring. She watches him a moment, tugging on his tie again gently. 

“Think about it.”

“Your offer, or?”

“Whichever. Whatever. But if I have to put up with Lupin franticly pretending he’s not moping because you vanished again…”Zenigata grimaces at her words, rubbing his face. It was hard to imagine, but then he supposes by definition he wasn’t there to see that. He didn’t see a lot of things. What the man was like day to day, when he wasn’t in the middle of some plan or running for his life. 

What were they like, If he wasn’t stuck three steps behind him. 

“…I’ll think about it.”

“Good! Now I wanna hear about young Free-Drinks gettin Pops.”

“Yes but only because I want to talk about literally anything else. Also get off me.”

 

He never did figure out if there’d been something she was angling for. He also doesn’t get her to stop lounging on him like a contrary cat of a human being. But, despite everything, it was fun. Which was, in a way, part of the problem. It was fun. 

He walked back to his hotel a lot later then he thought he was going to, thinking about it. What she’d said. How it wasn’t a bad time. The strange offer to fund his… general antagonism, apparently. 

Finding good company in bad people was, he felt, an unfair vice to wind up having. 


End file.
